The Invisible Hand Holds A Whip - Pyrrhon

The numbers keep running

Somewhere I can’t follow

To redacted transcripts

And data-rich shadows

Oh, I can feel the hands on me

They labor with loving efficiency

To carve away pounds of my flesh

As they comfort me:

«This is how it’s supposed to be»

The sources in conflict

Revised and provisional

The havens offshore

The funding’s untraceable

But someone’s getting paid

And everyone’s got a theory

Oh, I can feel the hands on me

Pointing me towards the ones I should hate

Don’t tell’em the maths got minds of their own

They want backs to walls

And blame always finds a home

This isn’t what they promised me

Their tide won’t lift me back to my feet

Nickels and dimes weighing me down

And plenty of ocean for me to breathe

Ten thousand lashes for our sins

Don’t know what I’ve lost but I feel it missing

Each voice for itself in this chorus of fools

The future’s a coda, we’re singing the blues

And stealing our notes from the bank of dreams

Whose vaults echo deaf as the tune runs astray

Our number’s up

We all gotta pay